The Butterfly Effect
by RosarioN
Summary: How Shelagh felt going from the orderly life as Nun, to her role as wife and mother. Scenes, reactions and issues that haven't been covered in either the Xmas special or season 3.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my** **attempt at filling in the gaps between 2.08 and the Xmas special, and later the gaps between Xmas Special between season 3. How Shelagh went from nun to civilian to wife and mother. It is slightly AU, in that I am having Shelagh return from the Santorium slightly before Chummy goes in to labour. **

**In my mind, Laura Main looks almost completely different out of the wimple, ( especially in season 3/ real life) and the show never really addresses that.**

* * *

Shelagh would forever be grateful that it was sister Julienne who answered the door at Nonnatus house after Patrick brought her home from the Sanatorium.

Timothy's earlier comment about her being 'in the wrong clothes' was eerily apt, considering how she felt at that moment. Accustomed to the freedom of movement afforded by her nuns habit, her legs felt suddenly restricted in her fitted skirt, the lack of wimple or skull cap on her head caused her to feel exposed and uncomfortable in what was to become her new skin. She knew she had to give herself time, she had been in religious garb for over a decade, and in her own clothes for barely 3 hours.

With such a sense of unease and trepidation running through her veins, she couldn't yet face meeting the younger midwives and dealing with the inevitable questions they would have. Consequently, her nerves subdued somewhat when the door swung open to reveal Sister Julienne, who had been anticipating Shelagh's arrival in civilian clothes.

Formalities and paper work completed, Sister Julienne was escorting Shelagh out toward the front door, when suddenly Sister Julienne paused in her tracks. "Wait here" she instructed the younger woman "I'd quite forgotten, I have something I need to give you" and with that Sister Julienne was off in a swish of skirts, feet echoing on the tile as she dashed down the hallway in the direction of the back rooms of the house.

Left 'unguarded' against potential prying eyes and inquisitive questions, Shelagh felt exposed once more, even though realistically she knew that the rest of the midwives were out on duty. To ease her nerves and give her hands something to do, she removed her glasses and began to give them a vigorous polish, something done more out of nervous habit rather than need.

Suddenly the main door flung open and the thump of a midwife bag being dropped to the floor heralded the arrival of one of the younger midwives. With her back to the door, Shelagh jumped, hoping that out of all of them it might be the shyer and less inquisitive Cynthia.

"I say, can I help you?" Trixie's voice echoed through the hallway as she noticed the unfamiliar blond haired woman.

Shelagh froze- mid polish, unable to speak, turning slowly around as Trixie made her way toward her. Loud, talkative and inquisitive, this was the last person Shelagh wanted to see.

"Are you here to see…." Trixie's words died out as she looked at the visitors face. The eyes, looked familiar but Trixie couldn't quite place it….just as Shelagh put her glasses back on and opened her mouth to speak, Trixie's brain kicked in to gear "Sister Bernadette!" she exclaimed.

Shelagh nodded and offered a small smile.

"You're blond!" Trixie blurted the first thought that came in to her head, confused as to why the young nun was stood in the hallway looking most un-nun like. "And you're wearing the wrong clothes?"

"I'm…" Shelagh stuttered, unable to voice her thoughts.

Fortunately she was rescued by Sister Julienne returning. "There is no such thing as the wrong clothes Nurse Franklin" Sister Julienne said firmly, materialising at Shelagh's side. "Here" turning to Shelagh she handed her a book "I want you to have this".

Putting her arm around Sheila she guided her to the door, a protective shield against the prying eyes of Trixie who was still trying to understand what was going on.

"Take care my child, and I will hope to see you soon." Sister Julienne opened the door and Shelagh nodded before steping outside and scurrying away.

Spinning on her heal Sister Julienne took in the still confused looking Trixie.

"Sister Bernadette is leaving us for another calling" Sister Julienne said simply, raising more questions in Trixie's eyes than she had answered.. " I will explain more over supper." And with that she departed.

* * *

Unusually for Trixie, there was something about the look in Sister Bernadette's face, that prevented her from gossiping and speculating with her fellow midwives about the scene she had witnessed earlier that day.

Instead she kept thoughts to herself, and waited for supper.

An hour or so later over the table Sister , Sister Julienne explained,that Sister Bernadette was leaving the church. She was to be known as 'Shelagh' and would be living in a boarding house nearby.

With Trixie so uncharacteristically silent and pensive, it fell on Jenny to ask 'but why?'.

"Because she feels she has a calling from God to follow a different Path". Was the sum total of Sister Julienne's explanation.

Jenny or indeed anyone was stopped from asking further questions by the glare coming from Sister Evangelina.

Sister Julienne had assumed that to be the end of the matter. She was surprised, but not displeased to find Trixie knocking on the door of her study not long after the supper had ended.

"How may I help you Nurse Franklin?"

"Sister, I don't know what it is, but I'm worried about Sister Bernadette. She seemed so unsure of herself, early, so nervous. How is she going to cope out in the real world? She wasn't even dressed properly for the times."

"_Shelagh_" Sister Julienne emphasised "and I have no doubt she will be fine once she becomes accustomed to her new path. Though I agree she did look uncomfortable. In fact Nurse Franklin, I have a favour to ask you, if you are willing…"


	2. Chapter 2

It took Shelagh all of 20 minutes to unpack her meagre belongings in her new rented room, and that included time spent re-arranging everything twice.

Patrick had insisted on paying for her new room. Shelagh wasn't sure it would be seen as entirely 'proper' being a kept woman, but of all the monumental changes that lay before her, and still feeling weak from the TB, she did not have the strength to argue that particular point.

She wanted to return to nursing, to have sense of familiarity in her life, but Sister Julienne had put her foot down and said that she did not want to see Shelagh anywhere near work for at least another 3 weeks and would not enter into discussion on the matter.

Her first full day of non-secular life began early, she may no longer have been a nun, but still found herself awaking at 4.30. Washed and dressed by 5am, and realising that she couldn't trouble her landlady for breakfast at such an early hour, Shelagh had no choice but to turn to the book that Sister Julienne had given her, (the selected works of Charles Dickens, something to keep her entertained during her convalescence the note had said ) and read until the rest of Poplar was ready to rise.

7am soon came and Shelagh made her way downstairs for breakfast. Her Landlady made pleasant chitchat, though Shelagh couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as she realised she was the object of attention of her landlady's 7 year old son, he was staring at her curiously throughout the meal. It was only as she was retreating upstairs when she heard him say very loudly and clearly to his mother 'why is that lady dressed like one of those women off of the War Posters?'.

Shelagh blushed, she knew that her clothes were terribly outdated, but 10 years of eschewing vanity and embracing a life of frugality, clothes and fashion were the last thing on her mind. It seemed frivolous to spend money on a new outfit when it could be better spent elsewhere.

She checked her watch. Patrick said he would call on her for dinner. That left another 9 hours of the day to fill, she sighed, pulled out her book again and began to read.

She was surprised therefore around 11am, when she was summoned to the parlour to be told she had a visitor. She couldn't think who it could be, and was shocked even further to discover that it was Trixie.

"Hello" She said, almost shyly "Is there anything the matter Trixie?"

"Hello" Trixie replied "What makes you think there is anything wrong?"

"I was just wondering why you came to call on me" Shelagh replied, "Not that it isn't nice to see you."

"Well, firstly, I come with news" Trixie said, "Chummy had her baby last night."

"Marvellous!" Shelagh exclaimed. "Mother and baby are well I hope?"

"They are now" Trixie said quietly "It was a bit touch and go at one point, she haemorrhaged quite badly, ended up in hospital, but she is stable now and awake"

"Goodness" Shelagh was on her feet, " I ought to go and see her"

"She'll be having visitors this afternoon" Trixie said

"Oh right" Shelagh said, as Trixie continued to stare at her "Anything else?"

"Yes, Sister Julienne and I have been talking, and I am here to take you shopping."

"Sister Julienne asked you to take me shopping?" Shelagh parroted, somewhat confused about Sister Julienne's sudden interest in the material effects of life.

"No, not in so many words" Trixie replied. "She wants me to help you integrate into the civilian life of a young woman in 1958. I Interpreted it as **_shopping_**"

"But why?" Shelagh asked

"Shes worried about you" Trixie said softly. "As am I. "

"Well she needn't be, I'm perfectly fine, I made my choice" Shelagh said, though Trixie could see through the bravado. She reached forward and picked up the former nun's hands.

"Shelagh, for as long as I have known you, you've always been very quietly confident and self assured about everything you do. As a midwife and nurse you have nerves of steel. Yesterday, I hardly recognised you. And I don't just mean the clothes and the munitions factory worker hairstyle. You looked terrified, you looked unsure, as if the world was waiting to eat you up and spit you out."

Shelagh contemplated what Trixie said, she was right, she was scared, mainly of the judgments from the local community rather than the force of her own decision.

"Let me, let _us_, help you Shelagh, just because you aren't a nun anymore doesn't mean you need to be alone."

Shelagh bit her lip, she wasn't alone, she had Patrick and Timothy, though she wanted to keep those cards particularly close to her chest for the moment. It did sound appealing though, the thought of being able to 'join in' with some of the other young midwives.

"Ok" she said slowly.

"Good" Trixie stood with a smile. "First stop, Oxford Street. I'm told you only have 1 suite and 2 blouses. We need to remedy that."

"Trixie…" Shelagh began to protest.

"No, I am not listening. You need at least 1 dress, and a cardigan, and lord knows some decent shoes, a skirt and jumper, perhaps a suite for the Christening and we haven't got time to make it all, so you will need to buy it off the peg. What size are you?"

"I don't know" Sheila confessed. "This suit was second hand, it was made for a friend and then altered to fit me. I've never bought new clothes from shop."

Trixie eyed her critically "We'll aim for an 8, perhaps a 6."

Trixie waited patiently as Shelagh shrugged off her borrowed slippers and found her suit jacket. The sense of slight relaxation she had felt earlier left her entirely as she stepped out of doors. Trixie felt her stiffen beside her as they hurried toward the bus stop.

"What's wrong?" She asked her companion, as Shelagh marched quickly through the streets, casting furtive glances to her left and right.

"Nothing" Shelagh said, "I just, don't want people to notice me. I can't face their questions or their judgment yet, not until I am more comfortable about it myself."

"I needn't worry" Trixie chuckled. "You're virtually unrecognisable. Who'd have thought Sister Bernadette was a blond with a perfect little figure. I always imagined you a brunette with no shape at all, those nuns robes give you all a manly gait."

Shelagh blushed. "where are we headed?" she asked, trying to divert the conversation.

"Debenhams " Trixie replied. "The first stop on the road to a new you!"


	3. Chapter 3

In the month since she had returned to Poplar, Shelagh gradually fell in to a routine. She would spend the morning resting, to appease Patrick and Sister Julienne. In the afternoon she would meet Timothy from school, and sit with him while he completed his homework.

She'd stay until Patrick came home, more often or not cooking the evening meal for the three of them, and then when Timothy went to bed, she in turn left, both to meet her own curfew at the boarding house, and also because she still couldn't help to shake the feeling of it being improper to be around Patrick without Tim as a chaperone.

She had visited Chummy in hospital, and on the nights Tim had cubs she found herself at Nonantus house for afternoon tea, but she hadn't really been able to bring herself to tell anyone about her relationship with Patrick. Sister Julienne knew, but Shelagh was confident she hadn't told a soul.

Despite her contentment at her new routine, her return to work after so many months, was a welcome one, though she approached it with some trepidation. Sister Julienne had finally allowed to Shelagh to return long as she was to take a desk based administrative role at the clinic until she was truly up to speed.

So Shelagh had donned a Trixie approved tweed suit and set about manning the reception. To her relief her first couple of appointments were young, newly pregnant women, who she had never encountered in her life as Sister Bernadette. She soon realised that Trixie had been correct, she looked so different outside of the habit, that on appearance alone, few, if any, people recognised her. The accent though was another matter.

Shelagh had relaxed slightly when a late running Iris Rownsley arrived.

"Good Morning" Iris said as she approached the desk.

"Good Morning Mrs Rownsley" Shelagh greeted on auto pilot, Mrs Rownsley, a mother of five, having been somewhat well known to the midwife community.

"How do you know me name?" Iris puzzled.

"You are the next appointment on the list" Shelagh covered

"Oh right. 'Ere, you sound just like that little nun we had, Sister Bernadette, lovely voice she had, she got the TB she did, poor thing…wonder what happened to her…" Iris lamented loudly.

Shelagh was saved from needing to answer by Trixie calling Iris to a cubicle.

Unfortunately for Shelagh, Iris it seemed, had opened the flood gates. Next up was Amanda Smallman who spent the entire time of her booking in, staring at Shelagh curiously. "Sorry" she said, "You just remind me of some one , I just can't place who…."

By the 11.30 baby weighing clinic Shelagh was very aware of the 6 mothers whispering and looking at her. It almost came as a relief when Chummy inadvertently 'outed' her.

In a fluster due to a last minute mishap with Young Sir, Chummy came barrelling through the doors to the clinic "I say , Sister Bernadette, do be a brick and …." Chummy all but yodelled to the room at large.

She glanced at Shelagh and saw that she had gone bright red. "Oh I 'm so sorry _**Shelagh" **_Chummy apologised realising her slip. "do be a brick and delay my first appointment for me for 5 minutes."

Chummy ran to the back and began getting ready.

Aware the whispers among the waiting mothers had ramped up a level over that little tid bit echoed off the walls, and Shelagh could feel their gaze burning in to her, as they gossiped and speculated, Shelagh kept her eyes straight ahead of her, and willed the flush from her cheeks to fade as she deliberately studied the patient log.

"Well" Patrick would say to her later, " You knew it would come out sooner or later. And Margaret Johnson being in the 'audience' will certainly have spared you having multiple conversations with everyone, she'll spread it all around Poplar in no time. Quicker than the radio that woman."

Shelagh had no choice but to brazen out the stares and curiosity ( thankfully no one came out and asked her point blank as to why she was no longer a nun) for a week or two, before it became accepted that Sister Bernadette was now just Shelagh.

The Christening of Freddie Noakes marked one of the second major turning points in her life. It would mark the first 'public' outing for her and Patrick as an engaged as a couple.

Having been on the receiving end of much speculation about why she had left the order, Shelagh and Patrick had tried to be very discreet about their relationship, especially at the clinic and in public. Even young Tim had been told to not explicitly talk about exactly how much time Aunty Shelagh was spending with him and his father.

He had however let slip one night at Cubs that he enjoyed having puddings again now that Aunty Shelagh was cooking for them. This bit of information made its way via Chummy to the midwives of Nonanatus house, who, happy for their friend if this was indeed true, made it their mission to spy on the couple whenever possible. Frustratingly, the couple were too covert, and as Trixie lamented one evening over Horlicks " We'll just have to wait until they tell us. And then Dr Turner can thank me personally for introducing Shelagh to the wonders of the pencil skirt."

However, none of them were aware of the latest development in the relationship. The Christening of Freddie Noakes marked one of the second major turning points in her life. It would mark the first 'public' outing for her and Patrick as an engaged as a couple.

Waiting for Patrick and Tim to pick her up, Shelagh stood fiddling with her ring, the weight of the small diamond unfamiliar on her finger. Should they make an announcement ? No, Shelagh decided, it was Freddie's day, not hers. She had already abandoned her calling, no need to make a show and dance about it.

A toot of the horn signalled the MG's arrival and Shelagh hurried outside to great the Turners.

Patrick greeted her with a kiss as she stepped in to the front seat. "Is my tie ok?" he asked by way of a greeting. Shelagh inspected it "indeed it is". She turned around and gave Tim a pat on the knee.

"Am I allowed to finally tell people we are going to be a family?" Tim asked.

"I think people will notice that Shelagh and I are courting when we all turn up together Tim" Patrick told his son.

"Yes, but what about-"

"Today isn't our day Tim, it's about Freddie and his blessing from the church, people will know soon enough!" Shelagh interrupted.

"But-" Tim began

"That's enough Tim!" Patrick said firmly, understanding Shelagh's hesitation " we will discuss it later."

The christening was beautiful, and, if the sideways glances and small smiles as Shelagh, Patrick and Tim entered as a Trio were anything to go by, Shelagh deduced that her's and Patricks relationship was not a complete surprise to the inhabitants of nonatus house.

A small tea party was held afterwards. Enjoying herself and feeling more relaxed than she had in months, Shelagh was having a wonderful time just acting as a couple with Patrick.

"Is there any more of that jam sponge left?" Sister Monica Joan enquired, sidling up to Shelagh who was stood closest to the cakes.

"Here you go" Shelagh handed a plate, making quick work of slicing a portion for the elderly nun. Taking the plate Sister Monica Joan noticed Shelagh's hand and grinned widely, giving the younger woman a wink before turning away.

Shelagh smiled to herself. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad afterall?

Toasts were held to wet the baby's head, and it was as Shelagh raised her glass Trixie spotted the ring on her hand. " I say!" she exclaimed. " Is that a ring!"

Shelagh blushed, as Patrick came to rescue his fiancé. "Yes it is" he replied putting his arm around Shelagh. " And we're very happy".

Shelagh dared glance upwards and spotted Sister Julienne beaming at her.

"You're pleased with this?" She asked Julienne.

"My child, if you are happy then I am happy" Julienne replied. "Besides, I already knew"

"How?" Shelagh puzzled.

"Doctor Turner asked my permission." Sister Julienne confessed.

"Patrick…" Shelagh turned "…you didn't need to…"

"I wanted to" he replied "they're your family".

Shelagh smiled. Things were going to be ok.


	4. Chapter 4

Her first day of 'normal' married life was not at all how Shelagh had expected it to be. Not that she had had too much time to indulge herself in thinking about how anything post wedding would turn out.

The run up to the wedding had all been about getting Timothy fit and well. Any time not spent at the clinic was spent with Timothy in the hospital, followed by eating dinner with Patrick and back to the boarding house.

After the wedding, she and Patrick spent 2 nights in Brighton on honeymoon, before returning to Poplar. It so happened that first day she spent under the same roof as Patrick as Mrs Turner, also coincided with Tim's return to school, and Patrick's first day at work.

The only real reference point Shelagh had on how a wife should act, was her own mother. Though she would never admit it, inwardly she worried about making a hash of the whole 'wife' thing, having spent all of her adult life assuming she would never be married herself.

Her memories of her own mother were dim, but she did remember with absolute clarity that every morning when Shelagh came to the kitchen to eat breakfast, there would be a cooked breakfast on the table waiting for her father.

Such knowledge firmly in her mind, Shelagh used the hour or so that she was awake before breakfast to set about preparing a full English for her husband.

By the time Patrick came stumbling downstairs at 7am, fiddling with his tie, the tea had been made, and a plate of sausage, eggs, beans and black-pudding had been set in front of him.

"Whats all this?" he asked as he surveyed the table.

"Breakfast" Shelagh replied

"That's wonderful my love" Patrick said, still not sitting down, but drinking the cup of tea from where he stood "But I'm really sorry, I don't have time to eat it" he grabbed some of the slices of toast from the side plate. "I'm running late, tea and toast do me just fine" he began haphazardly packing his doctors bag, while inhaling toast with the other hand.

"I'll eat it!" Tim appeared in the living room, eyes widening at the thought of a fry up on a school morning.

"You don't have time either" Patrick told his son " I am giving you a lift to school until your legs get stronger remember. Cornflakes will be ok for you, like usual."

"I'll get you a bowl" Shelagh offered, trying to cover her disappointment in having got things so wrong this morning.

She set about scrapping the beans and eggs in to the bin, was the turner men quickly munched their way through the first meal of the day. The sausage could at least be salvaged and used in sandwiches later. Tim noticed the slightly drooping shoulders of his new step-mother, but didn't really know what to say.

"Time to go Tim!" Patrick announced, and with a flurry of scarves, 2 pecks on the cheek from each male, and a chorus of goodbyes, Shelagh found herself alone in the house.

By 9am the washing had been done and was hanging on the line to dry. By 10am the kitchen floor and surfaces had been scrubbed. By 10.30am, the mantelpiece ornaments had been dusted and Shelagh was at a loss on what to do.

She surveyed the living room. While dusting she had noticed some subtle changes which Patrick must have made. Prior to the wedding, the mantle piece had held several framed photos - Patrick and Margarts wedding photo, a photo of Margaret and Tim as a baby, a more recent formal portrait of Tim, a photo of Patrick and Tim on a camping trip, and Patrick, Margaret and a younger Tim on an outing to the beach. Now, the photos of Tim and Patrick remained, but all the photos of Margaret had been removed. There were no photos of herself either Shelagh noted.

A glance around the room showed that the picture of Margaret and baby Tim had now been moved to rest subtly to the side by the grammar phone, still giving her a presence in the room, but not in the immediate line of sight. Shelagh wasn't sure how she felt about that. Part of her was pleased, as she wanted to make the house hers, but then what about Tim?

She went up to Tim's room and pushed open the door. She hadn't really paid much attention to her surroundings when she came in to say goodnight the night before, or indeed to shake him awake that morning.

Now, glancing around, she noticed that the beach photo of Margaret and Younger Tim was now on Tim's bookshelf, alongside a small portrait of Margaret by herself. Shelagh felt much better. She was also surprised to see a picture of herself, still as Sister Bernadette, an arm slung around Tim after winning the 3 legged race.

The ringing of the doorbell startled Shelagh out of her reverie, ,making her way downstairs, she was opened the door to find Chummy and Freddie on the other side.

"What-ho Shelagh" Chummy greeted her. "Young Sir and I were just on our way back from the clinic"

"Come on in" Shelagh smiled, pleased to see her friend and welcoming of the opportunity for some company.

"So how goes married life?" Chummy asked as they settled at the table with a cup of tea.

Shelagh immediately launched in to the tale of the Full English Breakfast, which when over, immediately surprised herself, by bursting in to tears.

"I'm sorry" she sniffed "It's silly, I just wanted to do everything right. My dad ate a cooked breakfast every morning, I thought that was what wives are supposed to do?"

"What did your father do?" Chummy asked

"He was a farm labourer" Shelagh said.

"Well," Chummy began "One suspects, that as a farm labourer, your pater needed a good substantial meal in the morning to cope with all the heavy lifting and manual work. Whereas Patrick has a more indoor job, and can probably cope rather well with just cereal and toast. If it makes you feel any better, I am sure that Peter is throwing my ornate radishes and crust free sandwiches from his packed lunch in the bin"

"sandwiches! I forgot to send either of them off with a packed lunch!" Shelagh groaned, head in her hands "they'll be starving"

"Patrick, I am sure is more than capable of finding food" Chummy said firmly "And does Tim have school dinners?"

"I don't know" Shelagh sighed, "I forgot to ask. If he does, I didn't give him any money"

"The school won't let him starve" Chummy assured her.

"What do you do with your day?" Shelagh asked, "I mean, inbetween looking after Freddie "

"I have been sewing up a storm" Chummy told her. "Idle hands and all that - your wedding dress was a fine project! In that vein - are you in the market for any new curtains?"

The friends chatted a while more, before Chummy headed for home.

Shelagh made herself some lunch and decided to try her hand at sponge cake .

The clock in the hall chimed 3, and she hastily gathered her things and set off for the school gates to meet Tim. She arrived about 5 minutes before the final bell went. There was a crowd of mothers to the left of the gate, all talking, many of whom she recognised from the ante-natal clinic.

Should she join them? Glancing out of the corner of her eye she noticed that they had spied her. Had she been stood any closer she would have heard them discussing whether or not they ought to invite her over.

Her dilemma was solved by the bell ringing and the gates opening. Tim, having been let out early to give him a slight head start, was one of the first few across the threshold.

"Timmy" Shelagh waved.

Tim blushed "Shelagh!" he stage whispered "What are you doing here?"

"I came to walk you home, in case your legs get tired"

"But no one gets walked home in Junior school" He said, as children spilled out the gates behind him.

"Nonsense, your friend Jack's mum is over there, and I'm sure I spotted John's mum a minute ago and-"

"That's because Jack and John have younger brothers in the Infants school, so their mums are here to walk them home, not really jack and john."

"Hush now! That's what Jack and John may say, but I'm sure their mums are just as concerned that they get home safely too. Besides, I am not letting you walk by yourself, until your legs are a little stronger and we know that you can manage the walk home easily."

Shelagh went to grab his hand, but Tim shoved it firmly in his pocket.

"Tim, what's wrong?" Shelagh was confused, Tim was usually so tactile at home.

"We're in public" was all Tim would say, as they set off for home, Tim trying to hobble ahead, and Shelagh wondering if she could do anything right today.

Once back at home, Tim's sunnier disposition emerged, and Shelagh felt more relaxed at falling back in to a routine which had become familiar before Tim's illness, supervising homework, cooking tea and waiting for Patrick to return.

When Patrick did return, it was a little later than usual.

"Sorry" he said, settling down to eat while still wearing his coat. "I stopped at the chemist to collect something" He indicated the package he had left on settee as he came in.

Once the dinner plates had been cleared away, washing up completed, Shelagh allowed herself to sit down next to her husband. It felt nice to know she could properly relax, and not have to leave suddenly to make it back to her boarding house.

"Here" Patrick handed parcel to her." For me?" she asked, as she ripped open the brown paper easily.

It revealed a framed photo of Patrick and Shelagh, on their wedding day stood on the steps of the church.

"Perfect" Shelagh exclaimed. "And I know just the place to put it" She said, eyeing the gap on the mantel piece.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: if you have time to comment on this story then I'd be very grateful - I have no idea whether the last 2 chapters were tickety-boo and marvellous or a load of badly written old tripe!**

* * *

The first time that Shelagh is referred to as Tim's mum, is not really about what has been said, it is rather what is NOT said. Its when Colin Monk comes running in and says 'hello Tim's Mum and Dad', and Tim does nothing more than grin at Shelagh and doesn't correct Colin. Shelagh finds herself grinning back and catches herself thinking that 'mum' has a nice ring to it.

The second time, the word 'mum' comes from Tim himself, but Shelagh isn't really supposed to hear it. The weather is warm, and she has opened all the windows upstairs to let some air in the house. Tim and Colin are in Tim's room playing aeroplanes while Shelagh is in the yard hanging out the washing. She can hear their voices floating out of the window above and down to the yard below, as they discuss the Lone Ranger.

"My mum is even going to make me a lone ranger costume for my birthday party' Colin declared. "He's the best!"

"He is" Tim agreed "But I hardly ever get to watch the episodes on Tuesdays"

"Why" Colin asked.

"My mum makes me play the piano at her choir practise" Tim grumbles

"Too bad" Colin sympathises

And Shelagh doesn't hear the rest as she is too focused on what Tim said.

Shelagh realised, it was easier for Tim to refer to her as his mum in front of Colin. As a new friend, he was unaware of all of that which came before, the complicated bits which required explanation and sometimes judgment. He could start afresh and simply refer to her as his mum, no talk of dead mothers and former nuns.

She found the same thing when she befriended Colins' mother. To Jean, she was merely Shelagh, the Doctors Wife and former midwife. Simple, uncomplicated, no tales of leaving the convent or awkward questions to be faced.

As she continued to peg out the washing, Shelagh found her thoughts drifting.

When she first left the convent Patrick began referring to her as Aunty Shelagh in front of Tim. Shelagh didn't mind, it was strange enough for her to get used to being called her given name again, after 10 years with a different title. After they got married, it seemed silly to call her 'Aunty' as whatever she was to Tim, she most most definitely wasn't his aunty, so the Aunty bit had been dropped while 'Shelagh' remained. She had no idea if Patrick had even talked to Tim about her role in his life, and what he should call her. Knowing Patrick and his propensity to keep painful subjects hidden inside, it was unlikely the matter had been brought up between the two.

Shelagh has no expectations as far as Tim is concerned. Since her conversation with Sister Evangelina, and her truly opening up her heart to Tim and embracing him as her son, she is content just to love him and have him in her life, she doesn't need the title 'mum' to validate her role in his life.

The third time is when Shelagh takes Tim for his quarterly check-up. It's a new doctor, one they haven't seen before, freshly arrived in Poplar from wilds of Birmingham.

"He's doing very well Mrs Turner, the strength and muscle density in his legs is very good"

Turning to Tim, the doctor continues "Indeed according to our notes you've grown an inch. You'll be taller than Mum very soon."

"That's not hard Doctor" Tim replies "Mum isn't very tall"

Shelagh can't tell whether it is a slip of a tongue or not, or whether Tim even realises he said it. She can't read his face as his head is bent, to look at the shoes laces he is tying. The warm feeling inside is back.

Later , Shelagh concludes it must be a mistake, as once they are back outside and are headed for home once more she becomes Shelagh once again as Tim asks "Shelagh, can we have jam tarts for pudding tonight?"

The fourth time isn't spoken. It's Shelagh's birthday, and as she goes to throw away the wrapping paper from the beautiful scarf that Tim has given her ( which she suspects that Jenny and Trixie had a helping hand in, as there was no way Patrick could have picked it out) she realises that the label hanging from the paper reads 'To Mum, from Tim'. She retrieves the label and puts it in her box of memories.

When Tim finally does call her mum to her face, it isn't the way either of them probably imagined it.

Tim has been in a bad mood all day, he was getting over a cold, and on what should have been his first day of freedom, the rain lashing down the windows meant that he had been cooped up inside again all day instead of out playing cricket .

"I think you ought to give cubs a miss again tonight" Shelagh told him, as she cleared away the dinner plates.

"No!" Tim exclaimed "I'm miles better now!" though unfortunately this was punctuated by a cough fit.

Shelagh raised her eyes pointedly as if to say, case in point, which irritated Tim further. "But that's not fair Mum!" he shouted in frustration.

"Whats all the shouting about?" Patrick asked, as he descended the stairs, he'd been able to come home early for once and had been up changing in to dry clothes.

"Mum says I can't go to cubs tonight" Tim whined in indignation.

Patrick looked over to Shelagh as if to ask 'when did Mum start?', but Shelagh simply shrugs.

"Well, if, Sh- _mum_," Patrick corrects himself, which the sulking Timothy doesn't notice "says you aren't going to cubs, you aren't going to cubs, firstly because you are ill, and secondly because you've just been rude to Sh-_mum_. Now apologise"

"Sorry Mum" Tim says, a little sheepishly. "oh" he exclaims, as he finally realises what he has been calling her for the last 5 minutes.

"That's ok Tim" Shelagh says, drawing him in for a hug "It's perfectly fine with me" and they both know its not the minor argument and apology she is referring to.

"good" Tim mumbles somewhere into her left arm. It looked like Mum was here to stay


	6. Chapter 6

The first time Patrick places her new daughter in her arms, Shelagh is shaking so much with nerves and anticipation that she is half scared that she may drop her. But as soon as she feels the weight of the baby's head rest in the crook of her arm Shelagh instantly calms and her grip turns to steal, and she knows there is no danger of her letting the baby come to harm.

There is no feeling of instant love, such as she has heard mothers exclaim that they experience when first holding their babies. What separates her from such women, is that they have had 9 months to grow to love and anticipate the arrival of their child. Shelagh's had about 90 minutes since the first phone call, and has in all essence just been handed a tiny pink stranger.

Shelagh knows that love will come, in the days and weeks that follow as she gets to know and bond with her baby. That's not to say she doesn't feel anything as she holds her new daughter. She feels awe as the babys tiny feet quick at her arm, she feels excitement at the journey she and Patrick are about to take together in getting to know the tiny human being that their daughter will grow to be, she feels a surge of protectiveness as she realises that this little creature is **_hers,_** reliant upon her and Patrick to look after her, protect her and love her. But most of all she feels contentment, that her prayers have been answered, and she can hold on to this baby and she never has to let her go.

Well, not quite. Patrick reminds her they need to go deal with the baby work, so reluctantly, the baby is surrendered to her cot once again.

Tim, who has been waiting in the office, is full of questions the second they enter.

"Whats she like? Is she bald? Is she big? Is she definitely a she?" he peppers his parents, as Patrick guides Shelagh to a chair.

"She is perfect" is all Shelagh can muster – the adrenaline rush of the past half and hour is subsiding, and with the mix of emotions inside her, she can't quite adequately convey her feelings.

Unfortunately, it isn't the informative answer Tim wants.

"But – " he begins

"Patience Timothy" is all Patrick will say " You'll meet her soon enough."

The paperwork is quickly dispensed with, and finally they are released to take the baby home.

Patrick carries the baby out to the car, waits until Shelagh is settled firmly in the back seat, before handing over the precious cargo.

As soon as the baby is in her arms, the warm feeling of contentment washes over Shelagh again. The baby, who woke up briefly during the transfer, closes her eyes and settles back to sleep.

Tim, who has forgone the opportunity to sit in the front seat, leans over for a look.

"She's asleep" he says states disappointedly.

"I'm sure she will wake up when we get home" Shelagh says " the motion of the car makes her sleepy"

"Can I hold her?"

"When we get home" Patrick replies from the front.

"Where's she going to sleep?" Tim questioned.

"The dresser drawer will suffice for tonight" Shelagh replied "we can arrange a moses basket in the morning."

Tim was first out of the car as soon as they pulled up infront of their house, running around to the passenger side to open the door for Shelagh, before Patrick had even got of out the car.

Shelagh carried the baby in to the living room, Patrick and Tim at her heals.

"_Now can I hold her_?" He asked.

Shelagh smiled. "Sit down then"

Tim sat down and reached out his arms as Shelagh passed the baby over "mind her head" she warned.

With the transfer from the car to the house, and now the new set of arms, the baby began to waku-up, her little feet kicking up a storm.

"Hello baby" Tim said, as Patrick and Shelagh smiled at him "what are we going to call her?" he asked.

"Whatever Mum wants" Patrick replied, as Shelagh raised an eyebrow at him "I'm not really an expert on little girls' names" Patrick said.

"uh-" Tim interrupted, "her bottom is very warm"

Shelagh laughed "I think she needs her nappy changing. Go up to the airing cupboard, there are 3 nappies on the shelf left from when we looked after Carol. Can you go fetch them? "

Tim handed the baby over to Patrick as if it was an unexploded bomb, and raced upstairs.

A nappy change, a bottle of formula (luckily left over from Carol's stay) and a cuddle later and the baby had been placed in Patrick's tie and hanky drawer, which had been repurposed for the occasion, for a nap.

"Tiring day" Patrick commented as they watched her sleep.

"It has been indeed" Shelagh smiled

"What are we going to call her?" Patrick asked his wife.

"I think I'd like to honour my mothers" Shelagh said

"Mothers?" Tim, who had half an eye on the Lone Ranger, yet still managed to pick up on the plural.

Patrick, who understood exactly who Shelagh was referring to with '_mothers_', but realised he'd never thought to ask what Shelagh's mother's name was, ignored Tim, and patiently waited for his wife to continue.

"My mother was born under the sound of the Angelus Bells ringing, and so, as it turns out, was Sister Julienne. They were both named for it."

"Angela Turner" Patrick announced, "I think it's a fine name. I'll phone Nonnatus house in a bit, I'll get them to bring us over some spare bottles and nappies first thing in the morning. It should get us through tomorrow, and then we'll go buy our own on Saturday."

"Could you request Sister Julienne to be the one to bring the things over?" Shelagh asked, "I'd really like her to be the first one to meet Angela."

"Of course" Patrick went out to the hallway

Shelagh, sat back and surveyed the scene. She could hardly believe her luck. Her husband was in the hall, her baby girl was asleep in her home, while her Big Brother sat watching the tv and playing with her feet. Everything she ever wanted was right here in front of her.

* * *

**a/n: I am reliably informed by my Grandmother, that it was very common in the 1940s/1950s for a baby to sleep in a drawer, if there wasn't any money/time to buy a moses basket. They used to take the drawer out of the chest of draws and line it with towels/blankets first though!  
**

**Thank you to aftersarahjane for the review for chapter 10.**


	7. Chapter 7

Afternoon tea, in Sister Monica Joan's book, was, after prayers , the Great Silence and other religious tasks, the most sacred time of the day. Quite why anyone would want to interrupt the routine of Tea and Cake was beyond her.

When the door bell rang just as she was enroute to the kitchen she was not overly welcoming. Technically she wasn't supposed to open the door, as she couldn't be fully relied upon to be of any use to the person on the other side, particularly if she wasn't having a lucid moment. But at that point in time, blinded by the thought of a Victoria Sponge, she forgot, and opened the door.

A tall man with very nice eyes, she thought, stood on the other side.

"uh, hello – " he began "is this Nonatus house?"

"It is indeed, and it is also, in case you haven't noticed, tea time" the nun replied.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry, I'm looking for –"

"Your wife isn't in labour?" Monica Joan enquired, though quite why a husband would be dithering about on the steps instead of phoning one of the midwives, she didn't know.

"My wife? No -"

"Good, then it can wait." Monica Joan ushered him inside. "You can wait in the parlour if you like"

"Actually, I need to speak to Sister Juli-"

Sister Monica Joan led the man down the hallway and in to the parlour indicating the armchair he was to sit in. "I'll let the Sister know, she can speak with you shortly"

With that she departed. Unfortunately as soon as tea began and the sponge was set infront of her, Monica Joan forgot all about the man she had left in the parlour, and passing on the message.

It was Sister Winnifred who found him there, 25 minutes later. "Oh!" She exclaimed in shock, as she rounded the corner, not expecting anyone to be there. "Can I help you?"

"I'm after Sister Julienne, an elderly Nun let me and told me she would fetch her, but….."

"It wasn't sister Monica Joan was it? She isn't all there I'm afraid. Sister Julienne is out at a birth. Can I be of any help?"

"You may well be. I'm looking for a Sister Bernadette" He says the name cautiously, it sounding foreign on his tongue.

"Sister Bernadette**? **We haven't got a Sister Bernadette" Sister Winifred said confused**.**

**"**Or a Shelagh Manion? Blond hair, Blue eyes, erm Scottish**" **He continued

**"**Oh! _Shelagh_, Doctor Turners wife." Sister Winifred exclaimed. "Yes, how can I help you?"

* * *

Shelagh put the iron back in its place with thunk and surveyed her handiwork. Patrick and Tims shirts were neatly starched and pressed, the bed linens had been ironed to within an inch of their life and so had her Sunday dress.

Angela was dozing in her pram outside the backdoor and Tim was just finishing up his homework.

Not bad for an afternoons work she thought.

Heaving the washing basket up in her arms she decided to take the ironing upstairs before starting on the evening meal. She was halfway up when the door bell rang.

"Tim dearest, can you get that for me please?" she called.

Tim swung the door open, expecting to see Colin or one of his other playmates. Instead he was confronted with a sandy haired gentleman who was even taller than Dad.

"Is Shelagh there please?" he asked, his words mumbling and a bit unclear, if Tim hadn't been so used to Shelagh's own Scottish lilt, he might not have understood.

"Yes" Tim replied, turning and yelling up the stairs "Mum, its for you! It's a man"

"Well take his name and let him in then!" Shelagh called back "I'll be down in a second"

"This way" Tim said, leading the man into the living room. "What's your name?"

"Uh Greg" The man replied.

"Greg? you don't sound too sure about that!"

Greg was saved the need to reply by the sound of Shelagh's footsteps on the stairs.

"Sorry about that" she said as she entered the room " I was just-" she looked up and caught sight of the man stood before her, her arm suddenly flying out to grip the back of the armchair as she felt her knees almost give way in shock.

"Oh My" She exclaimed, as Tim was by her side in an instant.

"Mum, are you ok?" He asked, as her face paled.

"Hello Shelagh" Greg said shyly

"Is that you?" Shelagh blinked hard, staring at the man "No, it can't be! You were-" Shelagh stuttered

"It is me, Shelagh, It's Greg" He smiled

Shelagh stood motionless her gaze not moving from Greg. Tim moved to stand in front of her protectively.

"Do you have any whisky?" Greg asked Tim

"Whisky?"

" I think you may need to pour your mammy a wee dram, she's had a bit of a shock"

"Mum are you ok" Tim asked again, concerned

"A whisky would be good Tim" Shelagh replied, patting his arm gently. She lowered herself into the arm chair and motioned for Greg to do the same.

"They told us you were Missing In Action. We, well, _I_ ,thought you were dead." Shelagh said "I held out hope, but then as the years went passed and we heard nothing –"

"I know. I may as well have been. I was a P.O.W Shelagh"

Tim, upon hearing this, poured a second Whisky for this Greg person.

He carried the glasses over to the adults and handed them out.

"Thank you Timmy" Shelagh said with a smile. Tim settled himself on the arm of the chair next to Shelagh.

"Excuse me, but _who are you_?" Tim asked

Tim was expecting Greg to speak, but it was Shelagh who answered. "This is Greg . He's my older brother"

"You said he died in the war?"

"That's what we thought" Shelagh replied, looking at Greg.

"I was shot down" he explained "Then taken to a POW Camp in Burma. I was 24 hours away from death myself when the camp was liberated. I spent 2 years in a Singaporean hospital before I was considered even fit for travel. Then I tried to get on a plane, but I just couldn't. Still can't in fact. I tried sending letters, but I didn't realise about Dad and the house…." He stopped. He didn't know Shelagh's side of it yet, but he sensed it was a sore subject.

"It was 1949 by the time I reached the UK. I found out about Dad and everything, and I set out trying to find you. All anyone could tell me was that you had gone to nursing college in London. I tried to search for you, but all records of a Shelagh Manion just stopped from 1948, it was as if you had also disappeared."

Shelagh smiled. All records **_had_** stopped in 1948, it was the year she'd become Sister Bernadette.

"How **_did_** you find me?"

"I went to a funeral of a work colleague about 6 months ago. I got chatting to one of the wives of another colleague. She commented that my accent reminded her of someone she'd done her nurses training with. It transpired she knew you, or had known you, and she told me she thought you'd joined the holy orders, but she couldn't remember which ones. So I contacted all the convents in the South East, which lead me to the Mother House in Chichester, which lead me to Nonnatus….."

"…..and from Nonnatus to here" Shelagh smiled and finished off the last of her whisky before rising.

"I can't believe it! You're alive!" She exclaimed, Greg also stood, and gave his sister a bone crushing hug.

"Me neither" he said as he released his grip and held her at arms length. "Look at my wee little golden girl, all grown up, you look just like mum!"

Being nearly 10 years older, Greg had much better memories of their mother.

"Ouch get away with you!" Shelagh said, though she was secretly pleased.

"Can you tell me all the embarrassing stories about Mum when she was little?" Tim wanted to know.

"I'm sure I can" Greg replied

"We've got so much to catch-up on" Shelagh said "I can't wait."


	8. Chapter 8

Shelagh knows that there are many many things that she and Greg need to discuss, many questions from both sides that need answering. She also knows, and she realises Greg does too, that the content of some of those conversations are not suitable for young ears, and will have to take place when Timothy has gone to bed. For now, they must stay on lighter topics.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asks her brother

"That would be splendid" Greg replies "no sugar"

Shelagh buses herself in the kitchen, boiling the kettle and preparing the tea cups. She can see Greg and Tim through the hatch.

"So you're Tim" Greg says to his new nephew "How old are you?"

"I'm 11 and a bit" says Tim, puffing his chest out, wanting to impress this new uncle, who in Tim's eyes already looked impressive.

"And_ a bit_?" Greg chuckles "I'll bet your in the cubs then?"

"Oh yes! Akela says we are the best pack in the whole of East London"

The kettle whistled, and Shelagh poured the boling water into the teapot. Unfortunatley the noise woke Angela, who let out a cry from her Pram.

"Tim!" Shelagh stuck her head through the hatch, "Come and bring the Tea tray through please" she instructed, as she stepped out of the back door to retrieve Angela.

"There now" She settled the baby, "It was just the kettle - do you want to come and meet your uncle?" Angela cooed and grabbed at Shelagh's hair which Shelagh interpreted as a 'yes'.

Entering the living room, Shelagh found Tim awkwardly pouring the tea out, Greg managing to grab the pot before it went everywhere and finising the job. He looked up to find Shelagh holding a baby.

"Who is this then?" He asked, as Shelagh came to sit down next to him on the settee.

"This is Angela" Shelagh replied.

"Angela?, After mum?" Greg asked

"Partly" Shelagh said.

"And Sister Julienne" Tim interupted "She cried for ages when mum told her that. _**Women!**_"

Greg laughed. "It was Sister Julienne I was told to speak to today, but I never got to meet her.I take it she is some one special?"

"Very" Shelagh said, and left it at that.

Greg held his finger out for Angela, who started at it before gripping it in her tiny hand. "Hello" he greeted her. "Aren't you a bonny little thing?"

"She doesn't do much yet" Tim lamented "Dad says I need to wait until she's older, when she'll be more fun"

"Oh little sisters are great fun Tim" Greg smiled at Shelagh "Just you wait and see"

* * *

Patrick had had a rather stressful morning. Complicated cases confounded by a lack of compassion from his patients familys. However, miraculously he found himself being caught up on everything by 5pm, which almost never happened.

With a spring in his step he headed toward home. He was looking forward to a nice evening listening to the cricket on the radio with Tim, with his wife curled up by his side, and playing with baby Angela. Perhaps even a treacle sponge and a bottle of ale for good measure, it was a Friday after all.

The sight he encountered on entering the living room was not one he expected.

There was his wife, sat entirely too close, knees touching no less, to some handsome young stranger, who was bouncing his daughter on his knee no less! Tim, enthralled in whatever this man was talking about, sat eyes wide in the opposite chair.

"Evening" Patrick called as he entered the room.

"Patrick!" Shelagh exclaimed, though made no attempt to move from her current spot. "I'm so glad your home!"

"What's going on?" he asked, albeit a little sharply, trying not to glare at the sandy haired man, as he tried to fathom out who this chap could possibly be.

"This is Uncle Greg, he used to be a fighterpilot, isn't that awesome!" Tim butted in before Shelagh could make any introductions.

"I thought your brother was dead?" Patrick said, as he took in the man's appearance, he had the same piercing blue eyes as Shelagh, the same colour hair, and the same slim build, now that he was looking properly, he could certainly see the family resemblance.

"SO I've heard" Greg said, standing and handing the baby back to Shelagh "But as you see, it's not true." He offered a hand out to Patrick "Greg Manion. How do you do?"

Now it was Greg's turn to appraise Patrick. He knew his sister was married, Sister Winnifred had told him as much earlier this afternoon. He knew, also thanks to Sister Winnifred, that he was the local Doctor. He hadn't really had time to stop and consider all the rest. He'd just assumed that her husband was of a similar age to Shelagh. But a glance at Patrick, who was very much an older version of young Tim, he noted, there seemed to be more than a few years difference between the pair. In fact, Greg noted, Patrick probably had a few years on him too.

"Good thank you. Patrick Turner"

Now Patrick realised he was being appraised, as Greg sized him up. Ususally, when he encountered stares, it was because he had dared to charm a nun out of her habit so to speak. The way Greg was looking at him though, he was wondering whether the 17 year age-gap was coming in to play.

Sensing tension between the 2 men, Shelagh stood-up "Patrick, isn't it wonderful news about Greg? Greg, I'm so glad you're able to meet Patrick".

She effectively positioned herself between the 2 men, nudging Patrick back to sit in his arm chair, dropping Angela in his lap as he sat, to give him something to distract him, and motioning for Greg to sit back down on the settee.

"Patrick is a wonderful husband and father" She told Greg pointedly "and I can't believe the good fortune we have to discover that Greg is alive and well and has been trying to find me" She exclaimed in Patrick's direction.

"Now, Greg - would you like to stay for dinner?"


End file.
